Hawkling or Say What?
by steamfan
Summary: The Battle of Manhattan brought the Avengers together, but the creation of the Avengers brings more than just a group of unique individuals together.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Marvel's universes. I have, however, really had fun playing around and picking and choosing different things to throw in from different fanfic prompts, comics, movies, and one fanfic story which I can't remember the title gave me the chains Loki is confined with. Just please remember that if there is anything that you think you've probably read or seen before, it probably isn't mine and I fully admit it! Lol

Title: Hawkling or Say What?!

Hawkeye sat perched on the back of one of two couches, watching everything happening around him. 'Tony Stark has a strange concept of what a hospital suite should be,' Clint decided. Knowing that Stark hated doctors with a passion and knowing the reason for that, (the ARC reactor embedded in the man's chest) did explain why Stark had a private medical suite in his tower. The man wasn't stupid and he was well aware of how fragile his health could be if the ARC reactor was damaged, not to mention his alcoholism, etcetera, but if it wasn't for the remote sensors and bandages on Loki's belly, and the holographic screen floating in front of Doctor Banner, Clint would have thought that he was in one of Stark's luxury suites.

"Thor, are antibiotics going to work on Loki?" Banner asked, checking both the screen and Loki's incision site.

"You need not worry about infection, Doctor Banner," Thor said. He was standing at the end of the bed, watching his brother writhe in the chains and gag confining Loki to the bed. "It is but a minor wound and did not disturb any of his organs. We learned the healing of such injuries as children. I worry more for what poison that monster may have placed in my brother's blood through _that_ afore we could set Loki free from the bondage that held him prisoner." Thor's glare at the three inch by five inch, glowing blue crystal shard Tony Stark was handling as he slumped in a recliner over by the floor to ceiling windows left no doubt about how Thor felt about whomever it was that had been controlling his brother.

Clint couldn't help but shudder at remembering having his bow drawn and ready to shoot Loki as he and the other Avengers entered the main living area of Stark's tower apartment, only to find the God of Mischief crying and trying to carve his own belly open. Thor had managed to stop him, only to have Loki waver back and forth between begging his older brother to get 'it' out of him and hurling insults. It had been Black Widow who had told them that Hawkeye had gone through the same thing when he was leveling out from the mind control that he'd been under after she had done her 'cognitive recalibration'. Her hand patting his calf brought Clint back to the present, and he petted the red hair between his knees to let Natasha know that he was ok. Natasha went back to flipping through a magazine, exhausted and thoroughly bored with watching the proceedings. She was far more interested in the food that they were all waiting for Steve to bring up.

"How long do you think this has been in him?" Stark wondered. He was flipping the container holding the shard over and over, idly glancing between the shard and yet another set of floating holographic screens. Clint thought that it was a good thing Stark was too tired to do any real investigation on the thing. There was no telling how big the explosion would be in that case.

"Three and a half to four centuries or so. It would have taken time for it to have grown large enough for its master to command Loki's actions, but it would need not be large to cause my nephew's deformity," Thor said solemnly. "Also the seed crystal must have been extremely small for not only Loki, but our mother to not have noticed it in his food."

Clint knew that story – but then he'd read up on Thor and his family when Thor had shown up in New Mexico and the brothers had nearly leveled the small town in their grudge match. There was nothing like having a front row seat to a disaster to get a guy interested in learning what he could about the combatants involved. He really wasn't sure how sensitive a topic it was though that Sleipnir had eight legs instead of four, and while he might be the sort of guy who would tease and prank, he wasn't a bully. Growing up in the circus and being friends with the side show freaks had done that much for him. It was also the real reason that he hadn't gone along with Trick Shot when he'd stolen the cash box from the circus. His one-time mentor had also killed Tracy the Legless Woman, who had done the circus' books as well as performed in the side show, in that robbery.

"How many kids does Loki have, and how are they doing?" Clint asked, his mind on the three kids that Tracy had left behind. He figured he'd better get his question in before Stark opened his mouth about Sleipnir.

"I know of four – Sleipnir, Jormungandr, Fenris, and Hella; and you, friend Clint, are a good man to think of them. They know not what has passed these last few days. All of Asgard and most of the other realms believe that Loki is dead, killed by his fall from the bifrost bridge last year. They only know that he is dead, and thus they grieve for the loss of their mother," Thor said.

"Wait, mother? I thought that Loki was a guy?" Tony asked. Men getting pregnant was a horrible situation to his way of thinking.

"The guy likes to shape shift and have kids according to the stories, Stark. It's none of our business if that's true," Clint pointed out.

"Well, that's a little better I guess," Tony muttered to himself.

"Yes and no," Thor told them, a sad expression on his face. "My brother is a Frost Giant by birth and they are able to choose if they will be sire or dam to their children. Loki prefers to be a mother. I think that this is because he and our mother, Frigga, have always been close."

"From what I read, the Frost Giants were your enemies," Natasha questioned.

Thor nodded. "I thought that learning the truth about his heritage was the cause of Loki's madness, but now I know that the blame lies with another."

"It couldn't have helped that's for sure, but that thing," Clint nodded in Tony's direction, "being inside the guy means that he was just as much of a puppet as I was. I'm still pissed about the whole mind control thing, don't get me wrong, but I'm not going to put an arrow in Loki's eye socket for something that wasn't his fault."

Natasha dropped her magazine and turned to look up at Clint with narrowed eyes. "You don't think that Loki is faking. Why?" she demanded to know.

Clint sighed. He knew that was why she was still here, still on alert but resting while she could instead of helping Steve get the shwarma or reporting back to SHIELD. "It was something he said to Selvig. It wasn't all fangirl squee…"

"Wait, fangirl squee? Where did you learn about that? I mean you two are all stealthy ninja types, that's not the kind of thing that would happen to you, unlike me," Tony interrupted.

Clint rolled his eyes. "We had a mark go to a convention, can't tell you more than that, but even up in the rafters I couldn't escape that pitch and it nearly fried my comms. Anyway, Loki wasn't talking like that. It was more like he was one of those adventure gamers who had been given a map to the entire game and he wanted to know what Selvig and I had gotten."

"I know the voice of which you speak," Thor said, a smile finally breaking through the gloom on his face. "Loki has always been one who valued knowledge above trophies when it came to our adventuring."

"Anyway, Selvig was going on about being shown more than mere knowledge, that he'd seen the truth. Then Loki said that 'The tesseract shows us all different things.' And he asked me what I'd seen," Clint finished.

"And what did the glowy blue cube show you, Barton?" Stark pestered.

Clint had absolutely no intention of telling Stark anything that would make him vulnerable to the billionaire. That was the same reason that he'd said that the high pitched squeal from the fangirls at the conference had nearly fried his comms instead of his hearing aids. It wasn't that they weren't both, but Stark did not need to know about his hearing loss. They might be on the same team, but they weren't teammates yet. The potential was there as the battle had shown, but it would be awhile before Clint could trust the other man the way he trusted Tasha.

So he gave Stark the same partial answer he'd given Loki. "My next target," Clint said. Then he turned to look at Bruce. "This is the way it works… I think. Whatever your focus is when it takes you over, that's what you stay focused on and everything else gets shoved back into the mental closet as not something important, and then whoever is in control uses that focus to turn you to his/its/her purpose. Selvig's was the tesseract. He'd been working on it for months. He was worried about Loki getting his hands on it. Mine was my target, my mission, because I was fighting Loki when he took me over. From what I saw, I'd guess that Loki was concentrating on being a king. He was obsessed with it the same way Selvig was the tesseract."

"My banishment," Thor cursed. He looked like he wanted to bring the full might of his hammer down on their unseen enemy. Noticing the stares coming from all around him, he explained. "Loki arranged for me to be punished for my arrogance. He was right to do so. I would have made a terrible king had I not been made aware of my own faults. I was little more than a childish bully who always thought he was right and spared no thought for other's feelings or rights. He was as shocked as I was when the Allfather banished me to Midgard as a mortal man.

"My father has a condition that we call the Odinsleep. When he falls into it, his body appears to sleep, but his mind sees all, in all of the realms. I was supposed to take the throne and rule in his stead while he slept, but my banishment made that impossible. He tried to hold the Odinsleep at bay until my return, but could not. He fell into the Odinsleep just after telling Loki about his adoption. Mother said that Loki looked shocked when she told him that he would have to take the throne in my place. He must have thought that she would do so as she had done before, but she insisted that it was his place to do so."

"And while he's having a bad case of stage fright, trying to convince himself that he is supposed to be king, that he is Odin's son, that he'll get the job done right and make his dad proud…" Steve said as he entered the room. He set the large package in his hands down and caught the disbelieving looks from his team. "Enhanced hearing," he shrugged.

"While that's going on our evil overlord wanna be triggers the crystal and Loki goes from nervous prince hoping the everything is going to work out the way he wants, to as crazy as a bag of cats obsessed with being a king, that it is his rightful place and everyone and everything is against him," Bruce finished Steve's speculation.

"It fits. Everything I ever heard him say, all his plans to kill Thor, get back at Odin and prove them wrong, even his little jaunts into lala land," Clint agreed.

"Lala land? And since when did you get stage fright? Didn't you tour with the USO for like months before you went to the front lines?" Tony asked.

"Tony, spending months as a dancing monkey is exactly why I know what stage fright is," Steve retorted, as he began passing out shwarma, French fries and drinks out to the team.

"And I don't know what else to call it when Loki would go transparent and have arguments with nothing that I could see. I figure that he was talking to whoever was in charge of the space whales," said Clint. He'd had shwarma before. It wasn't too bad in his opinion. He'd definitely had worse when he was growing up. Eric the strong man's stroganoff to name one; he'd barely been able to keep that down even as a starving teenaged boy.

"So he's probably not faking," Natasha sighed, accepting her share of the food from Steve.

"Probably not," Stark agreed.

"How long will he be forced to endure this?" Thor asked, as Loki's muffled screams took on a new intensity.

"Around ninety six hours assuming that he's had the crystal in him for four hundred years. So he should be fine in about four days or so. I guess we'll meet your real little brother then, Point Break," Tony said carelessly.

Thor shook his head. "Not for some time after that I fear."

"Hey! My math is never wrong. Two hours for Legolas to get clean after three days exposure means that ninety six hours for four centuries. I mean, it could be less going on the number of years you think Reindeer Games might have been under, but that's what the math says," Tony protested.

"I do not question your math my friend, but there is a factor that is missing from your equation. Loki wears the Bindings of Sannindi. He will be unable to speak anything but the truth for as many hours as he wears them. I believed that I would be bringing my brother back for the AllFather's judgment. Instead he wears the bindings so that he will neither hurt himself or others, but the effects will still be the same."

"So four days of guard duty and four days for the interrogations," Clint said. "That's not bad. Who wants the first watch?"

"Thor and I will take it. The rest of you need to get some sleep once you've finished eating," Steve said, sitting down with his own portion of the food.

"Yes Dad," Tony smarted off, but everyone knew Steve was right. The demi-god and the super soldier were the only ones not completely wiped out right now.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

MOSCOW

An elderly, heavy set man sat behind a lavish mahogany desk and sneered at the picture on the television screen normally hidden in a matching armoire. "Captain America," he spat in a heavy Russian accent. "He stands for truth and justice and all that sort of nonsense."

"He is a hero, one who has battled the Nazis who tried to take over our land, and now he has returned to save the world from aliens on CNN. There is little that can be done about such a man." The man who stood behind and a little to the left of the elder was one that was easily over looked – an asset in his profession as an intelligence officer. Average described him perfectly; brown hair, brown eyes, average height and build, nothing about him stood out. He was also someone that the older man trusted, at least about giving an honest opinion on such subjects as the danger of removing certain obstacles – and how that danger could be avoided.

"I do not care. He works for Fury now and he commands that archer of Fury's that stole our best operative to come out of the Red Room program. With our best and Fury's best, SHIELD is a difficult opponent now. With Captain America on their side, SHIELD will be unstoppable," the elder growled. "He is also a stuck up American prude – the one all father's want for their pretty daughters because he will not touch them."

The spy noticed his superior's personal animosity towards the American, (honestly it was hard to miss) but said nothing. He didn't have to imagine what that was about. The elder's appetites were well known to him. "I have heard from our agents inside SHIELD. Fury has lost his best agent to that mad alien, Loki," he said at last. "The archer and the Widow have been neutralized by public fame. Their faces are all over the television and internet."

"Humpf," the elder grunted.

The spy continued as if the elder had said nothing. "Captain America, is of course, also all over the news. Seeing pictures of him could, perhaps, cause problems with a few Cold War relics. It is not inconceivable that a sleeper agent, watching the news, could have out of date programing triggered. Who would expect that an order given decades ago would be relevant now?"

The elder laughed loudly. "Demitri, Demitri my friend, you are a genius! Go, use one problem to solve another."

"I live to serve," Demitri said, bowing slightly before leaving the office. He had a lot of work to do before he could revive the Winter Soldier. If he was lucky, he might even be able to make a profit off of this.

NEW YORK

Having to go to SHIELD medical was bad enough, Clint hated having his injuries fussed over and while his bruises had bruises, he wasn't hurt that badly, but being center ring when one of the world's most powerful telepaths took a walk through his brain turned an already horrible experience into something close to torture. It had been years since he'd spent any amount of time in the spotlight, and he was no longer used to the attention, on top of his little issue of trauma over having his mind hijacked in the first place. Knowing that 'Professor X' was rifling through his mind to find anything that Loki might have left behind was the only thing that was keeping him from attacking the telepath; that and from rolling his eyes at the painfully obvious codename. Of course, none of that stopped Clint from escaping into the vents at the first opportunity.

For all that Clint's bruises had bruises and his left knee was tweaked, his escape was a little faster than usual as he wasn't nursing any bullet holes, stitches, or a concussion this time. From the vents, he made his way out to the streets and back to Stark Tower. There, at least, he didn't have to face the agents that had been injured when he'd led the attack on the helicarrier. Not even Nick Fury's very public thank you for not shooting him or Agent Hill in the head and not blowing up all of the 'carrier's engines, (after all, everyone knew that Hawkeye didn't miss,) didn't make up for knowing that Coulson wasn't in the ICU. The death of his handler and friend was not something that he could deal with at the moment. In fact it was only that Xavier had been able to show him exactly where and how he'd gotten around Loki's orders – shooting Fury in the Kevlar he always wore, not hitting Hill at all, hiring low grade mercenaries, his instinctive hiding of information that he never willingly shared with anyone, etc. – as well as showing him that his mind was his own again was the only thing that helped Clint live with what had happened. It was no wonder Xavier's girlfriend was such a top notch shrink, if she could do even half of what he did.

"Good afternoon, Agent Barton," said JARVIS, as Clint entered the express elevator to the living levels of the tower.

"Afternoon, JARVIS," Clint greeted the AI in return. "Where are the other Avengers?" It hadn't taken long for Clint to get used to the AI. Tasha had warned him after encountering the AI for herself when she'd been evaluating Stark for the Avengers last year.

"Thor and Agent Romanoff are currently in the medical suite with Loki. Sir and Doctor Banner are in Sir's workshop. I believe they are collaborating on creating a fabric that will not be destroyed by Doctor Banner's transformations."

Clint snickered. It wasn't really funny, but of course Stark would be working on covering up Banner. Poor guy was not big on public nudity and Stark was more than happy to permanently cover up his embarrassed science buddy. Clint knew for a fact that Stark had pouted over the amount of fan mail that Banner had gotten from women just in the first twelve hours after the attack though, apparently the fact that Banner had rage issues didn't matter to them as much as how much they liked what they'd seen. "It's a better solution than the rest of us adding an extra pair of pants for him to our equipment bags."

"Indeed, the extra space is better put towards other efforts," JARVIS agreed. Clint glanced at the speaker and camera that he knew was in the corner of the elevator. He was beginning to get suspicious about just how advanced Stark's AI was, because from the tone that JARVIS had used, he could have sworn the AI just made a joke. "Captain Rogers is currently in the kitchen. I believe he is attempting to remove blood from a series of Captain America trading cards."

Clint didn't even register the faintly puzzled tone of voice JARVIS used. The information that someone had gotten blood on Coulson's pride and joy, near mint condition, Captain America trading cards collection was a punch in the gut. He'd honestly thought that Coulson was going to demand a place in the honor guard for the funeral when Rogers was first discovered. When the medical team announced that Rogers was still alive, Clint had started a pool on how long it would take the man to ask the captain to sign the cards. "Stop the elevator there," he demanded. "I need to talk to the captain." The thought of the cards being further damaged was intolerable.

"Don't worry," Steve said, as Clint burst into the state of the art kitchen. "I've got a lot of experience with this."

"What?" Clint asked as he stopped at the breakfast bar. There on the counter lay half of Coulson's collection, damp but undamaged as far as Clint could tell.

"Getting blood out of things that need to be sent to a man's family," Steve said simply.

For a moment Clint had no idea what Steve was talking about, but then he remembered that Rogers wasn't just a soldier, 'super' or not. Knowing that he had been Special Forces during WW2 was one thing, but seeing him carefully removing blood from crappy cardboard brought it home to Clint in a way that the bare facts hadn't. Clint had served his own time on the front lines before SHIELD had snatched him up, but he had always thrown away anything that couldn't be easily cleaned. It made sense though, that soldiers who had lived through the depression would have learned how to save anything that might be even the slightest bit salvageable. "How long were you on the front lines anyway?" he asked. He pulled up a stool so that he could watch. While he never wanted to see another agent's pride and joy covered in blood again, he knew that it would happen sooner or later. Maybe Rogers could teach him a thing or two that would help him save that favorite item next time.

"Fifteen months, two weeks and four days including the day I went down in the ice," Steve said absentmindedly. He set the last salvageable card down on the counter.

"Shit, I thought that it was longer than that considering all of the missions the Howling Commandos did," Clint said, startled. He took a good look at Rogers for the first time and realized just how young the captain was. "Crap you're only 22!"

Steve just shrugged. "First of all, the Commandos were kept together as a unit until the end of the war. I was the last casualty. They went on quite a few missions after I went down in the Arctic. Second, how do you know how old I am subjectively?" Steve asked, as he put everything he had used away. He'd only been able to save half of the cards. In some ways that was worse than not being able to save any of them. These cards could be sent off to Coulson's girl, but the rest he was keeping as a reminder to himself of the agent who had believed in him when he was lost and couldn't believe in himself.

"Coulson was our handler, mine and Natasha's," Clint admitted. "I learned a lot of Captain America trivia on long missions. I just never put it together to figure out how old you were before now though."

"Learn anything else?" Steve asked, attempting to turn the conversation away from himself. He'd never really been comfortable with all of the 'Captain America' propaganda although it seemed like Agent Coulson at least had researched the person behind the mask of the title.

Clint grinned. "Natasha likes to play a game called 'who can come up with the most creative death with what's in reach for the idiot talking to us' during boring meetings." He had to give Rogers credit, the man only blinked at that piece of information.

Steve considered that for a moment before admitting, "I think Peggy would have liked that game. She put the first dents in my shield when some dame grabbed me for a kiss before I knew what was happening."

It was Clint's turn to blink in surprise. "She walk in on it?"

Steve nodded. "Yes, and when Howard gave me my shield ten minutes later; she pulled a gun, shot it while I was holding it three times, and then told me it looked like the shield worked before walking off."

"Damn, Cap, and here I thought I had dangerous taste in women. At least Tasha would have waited until she could deny that she'd shot me and get away with it," Clint said with a grin.

"Peggy never backed down from anyone or anything and she never apologized for being the sort of woman who could take a man's place on the front lines. I miss her," Steve said simply.

"You do know that she's still alive, right?" Clint asked.

Steve nodded. "She's alive, but she's had several strokes. They don't expect her to live out the month. When I asked about visiting her, the doctor told me that I'd probably make the situation worse because she thinks I'm dead."

"That sucks," Clint said simply. There wasn't much else to say. "Come on up to the medical suite. I know Stark has to have some sort of set up to watch movies in there. We can get you caught up on a few of the classic movies you've missed."

Steve accepted the change in subject and helped Clint to grab a few drinks and snacks. He might be behind by seventy years, but even he knew you couldn't watch a movie without something to munch on.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It took three days for Loki's screams to subside into mutters, at which time Thor removed the gag, although he left the restraints on his brother. While it was obvious that the tesseract was still influencing Loki's mind, his periods of semiconscious ramblings were becoming more frequent. "You know, this is probably the easiest stint of guard duty I've ever done," Steve mentioned from his place on the floor in front of the couch. Clint's idea of watching movies while they waited for the tesseract's influence to finally leave Loki had been met with enthusiasm, and so far they had watched the original the Star Wars films, The Shawshank Redemption, and Raiders of the Lost Ark.

"Anything has to be better than escorting a prisoner on a train in the middle of winter, especially if the stories about the state of that train are true," Natasha said as she leaned into Clint's knee. Clint was once again perched on the back of the couch.

"Oh Lord," Steve groaned, and threw an arm over his eyes. "We trashed that train when we captured it. It leaked wind, ice and snow. We'd just lost Bucky, and half of the Commandos had some sort of injury. It was a wonder we even managed to get it back to the Allied lines."

"Now that sounds kind of familiar," Clint said. He was oiling a long strap of leather. "Only I was dealing with sand and heat instead of snow and ice."

"Desert Storm?" Tony asked.

Clint smirked. "Let's just say Middle East and leave it at that. I'm still under 'if I tell you, I'd have to kill you'."

Everyone laughed at the pout that Tony made, and Bruce brought the conversation back on track. "Well at least Loki's down to muttering about his past, although I could have done without learning about what pranks he pulled on the warriors three. I think we're going to have enough time for a couple more movies before he's coherent again."

"What else is on the must see list?" Natasha asked. She wasn't surprised that Tony had taken a look at the numerous epic movie lists on the internet and decided to make his own, better version.

Tony perked up. "We've got 'Back to the Future', totally laughable science but still a great comedy." He and Pepper were curled up in a leather recliner together.

"No way, you'll go on a science binge and actually try to build a flux capacitor," Pepper pointed out. "Remember the last time you watched a Star Wars marathon with Rhodey? You ended up trying to build lightsabers so the two of you could duel. At least I know Bruce won't go along with that. Pick something else."

"Nothing about WW2 please," was Steve's request. "I lived it. I don't need to see it again." Unspoken was the fact that a lot of people had been showing him that sort of thing as though they thought he needed to be persuaded that the war had ended and that Hitler had lost.

"Forest Gump, that covers a lot of pop culture," Bruce offered.

"And if we're going the comedy route, how about Kill Bill?" Clint asked.

"Monty Python," was all that Natasha said, to the loud agreement of almost everyone else in the room.

"You really can't miss that Steve," Pepper said.

"No," Clint stated flatly. He then glared down at his partner. "You just want to make me laugh again," he accused her. It was the one film that he couldn't help laughing at. He had a great sense of humor, but a full on belly laugh was something he almost never did.

"Come on, Featherhead. Monty Python is epic!" Tony protested.

Tasha's smirk pretty much told Clint that she'd put him on the spot on purpose and she wasn't going to let this go until he went along with her. She always came up with the most unique plans for revenge, and while she would never blame him for what he did under Loki's control, she would feel that he needed some kind of punishment for allowing himself to be possessed in the first place. "I know that it's epic, Stark, that's not the point. The point is I can't stop laughing at it and Natasha thinks it's hysterical that I laugh the way I do. It's not funny."

"Yes it is, especially if any of the new agents catch you at it." She turned to the others. "He usually ends up spending the next week shooting them with Nerf arrows if they haven't pissed him off too badly and real ones if they have."

"If you want to see me shoot newbies, I can do that," Clint offered. He really didn't want to have these guys making fun of him for his laugh too. Wordlessly the memory of Clint shooting at a new SHIELD agent in the mess, catching him against a wall and outlining him in arrows passed between them. The 'Caw, caw,' that Clint had snarled back at the baby agent had been the tipping point for sending Natasha into laughter. It was also the first time that he'd actually heard her laugh at anything.

"Your laugh can't be any worse than the Commandos singing, and I had to listen that plenty of times," Steve offered. "When they got drunk, it was terrible, and the fact that I can't get drunk made it even worse."

Clint sighed. Truthfully, he was glad that Tasha was able to relax enough to get her revenge, even if he was the one taking the hit. She only trusted two people in the entire world, and now one of them was dead. It didn't help that Loki had shanghaied him to the other side either. She'd been under enough stress with this mission. "It's not bad. I just sound like a bird, which is bad enough, but people seem to find it irresistible to tease me about it." Besides, Tasha could have taken out her mood on him much differently, in ways that would actually cost him in terms of blood and mandatory down time. He could take being teased, as long as Stark didn't cross the line.

"The teasing really gets to you?" Bruce asked.

"It's off limits," Clint said flatly. "You can tease me about anything else, but not how I laugh." He hoped that was blunt enough to keep Stark reigned in.

"Really, Robin Hood? 'Cause I can come up with a lot of things," Tony began. He never finished because almost quicker than they could see Clint threw a knife close enough to shave a few hairs off of Tony's beard. He'd deliberately chosen the side away from Pepper, but he wasn't going to let Stark try to weasel his way around this one. "Ok, no teasing the master assassin about his laugh, gotcha. We're still watching Monty Python though."

JARVIS put Monty Python and the Holy Grail up on the screen and Clint switched from taking care of his sling to checking the lead bullets that he'd had made for it. Hawkeye was an expert with any weapon that required aiming, and his favorites were those that took the most amount of skill to master, such as the bow. Guns of any type were simply far too easy and inaccurate in his opinion, (far too many people just used the spray and pray method) although they did have their place.

Clint also enjoyed reviving the ancient tradition of inscribing messages on the bullets for his sling, in his case 'gotcha!' That was as good as a signature because there was only one man who used any type of ancient weapons in combat or in assassination these days. He hadn't used the sling during the battle for the simple reason that he hadn't had the time. Usually he used it when he ran out of arrows, but when that had happened during the battle, the aliens were on him and he was reduced to hand to hand, not that he was bad at it. There was no way Tasha would allow her partner to be bad at one of her specialties. He was just glad that she was still the master and he the student. Finally, he could do no more with the distractions he had on hand and he put them away to watch the movie.

HELICARRIER

Colonel Fury was not a man to use profanity or to yell unless the situation was dire. This was a situation that he felt qualified. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HE'S DOING AS WELL AS YOU CAN EXPECT?! YOU TOLD ME HE WAS DEAD!" The helicarrier's CMO remained calm, despite the fact that she was standing directly in front of him. The ability to remain calm in almost any situation was a requirement for a job among the medical division and Doctor Caruthers was very good at her job.

"When you were told that, it was true. Agent Colson was dead on arrival, but he arrived here in the ER within the first three minutes after his heart stopped. His brain hadn't had a chance to die from lack of oxygen. One of the good things about the fact that you make sure that my requests for equipment aren't ignored is that we had a bypass machine ready and waiting when he was brought in. Don't get me wrong, he's still critical. We managed to fix his lung, but he needs a new heart, and soon. The life support machines can only do so much. If he doesn't get a new one, he will die again and this time I won't be able to bring him back. I was hoping that you could pull a rabbit out of your hat, sir, because according to the national database, he doesn't have a match and probably won't get one," Doctor Caruthers said.

"Why am I only being informed of this now?" Fury demanded to know.

"It's not my fault that you didn't get around to reading the reports on the injured agents until now," Caruthers snapped. If she hadn't barged her way into his office, interrupting his discussion with Agent Hill about the UN, he probably wouldn't have known until it was too late to help Coulson.

"And why is he in the isolation suite instead of the ICU?" Fury asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. The reason that he hadn't read the reports was because there hadn't been anything he could do for the injured agents, and he'd been swamped with the fallout of the Battle of Manhattan. The WSC (World Security Council, or as they were known among the SHIELD agents in the know, those idiots who tried to nuke New York) weren't the only ones who had been jumping all over him looking for someone to blame for the mess that was New York was at the moment or demanding to know more about the Avengers.

Caruthers snorted. "I've still got seven agents waiting for clearance from Professor Xavier for what that alien wacko did to their minds when he touched them with that alien scepter. At least he's been able to clear Hawkeye and Doctor Selvig. Agent Coulson was impaled by it. Who knows what effect that could have, either on his injuries, or on his mind. It's one of the reasons that he doesn't qualify for a transplant even if by some miracle we could find one in the database."

"On the other hand, I have contacts that might be able to get around all of that," Fury finished for her. She nodded. "Stark and the rest are keeping Loki at Stark Tower. He said that there were some complications, but that they were handling it for now. I have to head over there and find out what's happening with the prisoner. You are coming with me and you'll be the one to tell Hawkeye and the Black Widow that their handler is still alive."

"If it buys my patient a chance, I'd do a strip tease for Stark in front of half the WSC," Caruthers said flatly. She knew that it wouldn't come to that. Stark, once a notorious playboy, was staying close to home these days, now that he and Pepper Potts had finally become a couple, not to mention that the older woman was about as far from Stark's former Playboy bunnies as could be imagined.

"Let's go."

STARK TOWER

One thing that Fury never expected to walk in on was Hawkeye laughing hard enough to fall off his perch. The so-called medical suite held all of the Avengers, plus Miss Potts and Loki. Loki was chained to a rather luxurious hospital bed, and was flanked by Thor and Banner. The rest of the Avengers were sprawled around the suite; Stark and Miss Potts in a recliner, (Fury noted one of Hawkeye's throwing knives in the headrest) Captain Rogers on the floor, and Hawkeye and Black Widow on the couch.

The cause of Hawkeye's mishap was obvious, Monty Python and the Holy Grail was playing on an enormous television decorating one wall. He'd heard Hawkeye laugh before. It was a rare occurrence, but it had happened often enough that he'd heard both the sound and the aftermath. As it taught new people not to mess with one of his best assassins, Fury was fine with Hawkeye dealing with those who teased him as he saw fit. He didn't think any of them expected Loki to start throwing a fit.

"NO!" Loki screamed. He tried to lunge off of the bed, but Thor grabbed him, wrapping his arms around his younger brother. The moment Loki screamed, all of the laughter in the room ceased, and everyone turned from the movie to watch Loki and Thor, weapons at the ready. Stark, Fury noted, had put himself between the recliner and Loki, and was wearing both of his gauntlets. "No, they'll burn! You can't let them die!" Loki screamed as he continued to struggle.

At this everyone relaxed, and Bruce answered Fury's unasked question. "He's been having flashbacks. I'm not sure that I want to know what this one is about considering it was triggered by laughter." Thor's face was full of anguish as he tried to soothe Loki and bring him out of the flashback.

"Flashbacks?" Fury asked. He'd expected the restraints, but not the hospital bed or bandages. Something was going on here, and no one had bothered to update him - again.

Tony removed his gauntlets and picked up a tablet from the table next to him. "Bruce and Thor pulled this out of Loki's belly. Apparently he's been under someone else's control for at least the last three centuries. He's been having flashbacks, and well, we think it's like he's detoxing now that it isn't in him anymore."

Fury took the tablet and cursed. He'd seen far too many glowing blue crystals in the last week.

"You'll be able to interrogate him about whoever was giving him orders in a couple of days, once we're sure he can actually answer your questions. You'll also have to go through Thor about which questions you can ask. The last thing we want is for our relations with Asgard to be fubar'd because SHIELD was too harsh in questioning their traumatized prince," Steve said in a no nonsense tone. Fury winced, as much because he could see that happening, as because Rogers had obviously adopted Loki. He was using a tone of voice one of Fury's own commanding officers many years ago had referred to as 'I can't give you orders, but if you don't listen to me you're the world's biggest idiot' that often came from experienced noncoms. He also told Fury and the other young officers that had been listening to what they thought was an upstart sergeant being insubordinate, that no good commander ever disregarded such advice.

Fury was about to answer the captain when Loki changed his pleas. "Please, don't let the fire kill them. Clint, Barney, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." All three SHIELD agents froze at hearing the names, especially when combined with Loki's tears and sobs.

It wasn't just the names that held Clint frozen in place. He heard those same words, in the same voice, in his nightmares at least once a week – and had for the last twenty years. The car accident that had killed his parents had left him and his brother Barney with burn scars. It had also left him with nightmares of a one eyed man ripping his mother out of the car and preventing her from rescuing them. Clint was a very good agent as well as an excellent assassin. One of the traits that made him such was an ability to recognize his targets no matter what they looked like. No disguise could fool him for more than a few moments – and when he compared the memory of his mother with Loki, he realized that they were the same person. His nightmare, rather than the imaginings of a traumatized child as he'd been told over and over again, was actually a memory of the accident, and Loki was in a flashback of that same moment in time.

Clint handed off his bow and quiver to his partner, and quickly got up on the hospital bed right behind Thor. Then he started making a weird crooning noise that he had only ever made to soothe a wounded Tasha as an adult. As a child it had been a noise that his mother had used to soothe him from everything from nightmares to scraped knees.

"Clint?" Loki asked, and Clint thankfully could literally see his gaze clearing and focusing on the sniper.

"We're fine. We made it out of the car. We weren't hurt badly, and everything healed up perfectly. We're fine." He brushed a strand of Loki's hair back behind his ear. "We're fine. He doesn't have you. Barney's at home. I'm right here. Thor's right here too, and he's going to make sure that he doesn't touch me, ok? You just lay down and get some more rest."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Clint bolted for the bathroom the moment Loki fell asleep. Steve grimaced, knowing all too well the man's most likely reason. He reached out and grabbed Natasha's upper arm, knowing that he would be paying for preventing her from helping Clint later. "I've got this. Stark, I need a bottle of strong smelling cologne or perfume."

Pepper grabbed her purse, and pulled out a bottle of perfume. "Captain, here!" she said, as she tossed it his way. She shrugged when Tony looked at her, offended. "It is strong. That's why I only use a little bit at a time."

"Thank you, Miss Potts," Steve said, catching the bottle. Then he turned back to Natasha. "Help Thor with Loki. I doubt that he's going to be sleeping for very long, and with any luck, you know how to make that noise Clint made to keep him calm." That was what Steve said, but he made sure that she saw him glance at Fury. There was no way that the man just came over to get their report on Loki, not when he was dragging a SHIELD doctor around behind him. Natasha didn't like it, but she gave him a slight nod, acknowledging the unspoken order.

Steve found Clint exactly where he expected to, heaving his guts into the toilet. He opened the bottle, and in a single move, grabbed Clint gently around the ribs, picked him up and shoved the open bottle in Clint's face just as Clint was beginning to take a deep breath. While Clint was breathing in the perfume, Steve turned them both away from the toilet, and brought them over to the sink. It didn't take Clint long to be able to look at Steve in the mirror, the psychological reaction halted.

"A couple of months ago, well for me anyway," Steve began quietly. "I helped to liberate a Nazi death camp. I know what that smell does to a man. I know I can't forget it. I imagine it must have been much worse for you."

"I can't remember the pain very well, thank god, but every time I go on a mission and someone burns a dead body, I spend weeks afterwards fighting off the memory of the wreck. Every time I close my eyes, I'll see my dad burning, see _**us**_ burning, and that'll trigger the memory of the smell," Clint sighed. "I was eight when it happened. One minute, we're driving along, and Mom is helping us play a prank on Dad, and the next, the car is wrapped around a tree. Dad was driving. I don't know what killed him; broken neck, impaled on something, I just…. I don't know. I know he was dead because the car was burning and, and so was he. He didn't make a sound, or move, so he had to have been dead by then." Clint took another deep breath straight from the perfume bottle.

"Loki never asked me anything that didn't pertain to the mission. He asked me about SHIELD, about the Avengers Initiative, what I needed to make something happen. He didn't ask me about my first name. He didn't bother learning anything about me personally. I was just a part of what he needed to do. It was like I was a pet. You don't ask a dog his opinion on things, or about his family. He doesn't know that I was the same Clint that was in that car that day. He probably thinks I'm dead. He doesn't know that I saw everything."

"Or that you're alive to talk about it," Steve said. He let go of Clint, now that the other man was standing on his own, and turned so that he was leaning against the counter.

"Yeah, and if I talk, what I saw is going to kick over an anthill where Asgard is concerned. Can you make a sketch from a verbal description?" Clint asked. He handed the perfume bottle back to Steve.

"Yes, and I can make it recognizable too," Steve joked. He put the cap back on the bottle. "I've got a sketch book and pencils in my bag. Do you want me to get them?"

Clint nodded. "And don't talk to anyone out there about this. It's important that no one can say your sketch was influenced by anyone."

"An anthill, huh?" Steve said. Clint nodded. "Then we'd better get started. I'll be back in a minute."

In the main room Steve noticed that everyone was crowded around Fury and that there was some heavy arguing going on. Normally he'd go over and try to sort things out. As it was, he was thankful that he was able to get to his art supplies and back to the bathroom without being interrupted.

Back in the bathroom he found Clint brushing his teeth. Clint had cleaned up what little mess there was, and now finished this last bit as Steve set up to create the sketch. Clint sat down on the toilet and leaned his arms on his knees. When Steve signaled that he was ready, Clint began to talk. "I'm looking out the window, backseat passenger side, and there's an oak tree about twenty feet away. There's a man there, and he's holding my mom. He's a full head taller than she is. He has white hair, free flowing, down to his shoulders. It's slightly curly, more waves than curls, like Thor's. He has a beard; white, short, about two finger lengths long with a moustache. He looks really stern, brow furrowed, like he's really pissed off that he has to be there. His right eye is missing, covered with a metal patch."

Steve looked up, startled, and Clint nodded. "Yeah, I made the connection. It wasn't everyone laughing that triggered Loki's flashback. It was my laugh and Fury coming into the room. Like I said, this is an anthill, but if I'm getting my mom back, I'm not going to make her…. I mean, him, kick it over if he doesn't want to. It's just that I need to find out why _he_ tried to kill me and Barney, and what really happened to the rest of Loki's kids, because there is no way in hell that _he_ started out by trying to kill us. The stories that are written down in Norse mythology are pretty sickening when you think about them happening to real people, even if they are supposed to be monsters."

"We're talking about your possible siblings. It's natural to be concerned, especially because of those stories on top of what happened to you. If it was me, I'd be demanding Thor tell me everything, right now, and to hell with the consequences," Steve said. He held the sketch up. He also ignored the double take Clint gave him. He was a soldier from Brooklyn; of course he knew how to cuss. He just didn't do it in front of a dame because he just **knew** his dead mother would rise from her grave and tan his hide if he did.

Clint shook his head and focused on the sketch. "There's no strap on the eyepatch, and his beard is fuller," he said. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the 'Loki really does like to have kids as a girl and I'm one of them' thing. I was told for years that my nightmare was something that my mind made up because I was a traumatized kid who watched his parents die horrible deaths in front of him. Now that I know it's a memory, not my imagination, trying to see myself as part of that family is strange, and more than a little creepy. I've got a horse, a wolf, and a giant snake as brothers, and a sister that's supposed to be half dead. You know, this would probably be a lot easier if I'd had even the slightest clue that I wasn't normal."

As Steve adjusted the sketch, he asked, "What, like being able to see better the further you are from something? The fact that you never miss your shot, even when you're not looking? Or maybe you'd rather be tall and blue?"

Clint scowled at Steve. "You know, Coulson never mentioned that you could be earnestly sarcastic. He really let me down on that one." Steve just gave him the same big eyed look that had gotten him out of trouble more than once with the nuns who ran his school. Clint snorted. "Ok, so obviously I should have bought a clue without being a blue version of the Hulk. SHIT!" Clint began to slap at his pockets. "Phone, phone, where's my AHA!" he said, and pulled a cell phone out of his thigh pocket.

Steve shook his head and continued to work on the sketch. One thing about waking up in the future was comforting, no matter how technology or fashions or how women were expected to behave changed, deep down, people never really did. He'd seen Bucky do the exact same thing time and time again, albeit when looking for a quarter rather than a phone.

"Yes, FBI Phoenix field office? Please put me through to the VCMO office?" Clint asked, after dialing a number. "Yeah, put Trickshot on would you? Tell him it's Hawkeye."

Faintly, Steve could hear a young voice tell Clint that 'this is the FBI and prank calls are not tolerated.' As Steve knew perfectly well that Clint's codename _was_ Hawkeye, he didn't think that would go over very well.

"Listen, dumbshit, put this call on speaker or so help me, you'll be riding a desk and commuting with polar bears by the end of the day!" Clint snarled.

"Look, I told you, there is no Trickshot here," the voice said, just before the phone was apparently ripped out of his hands.

"You stupid, little, shit! How many times have I told you not to jump without a net or a line set up ahead of time?! And don't you dare say you didn't because it's all over youtube!" yelled an older male voice. "How badly are you injured?"

"I'm fine, Barney," Clint said. "I've got lots of bruises, and a ton of minor cuts. I didn't even need stitches. I don't have any major injuries. I'm on youtube?"

"You, Widow, Iron Man, whoever they stuck in the Captain America uniform, (and you have got to tell me about what the fuck that's about later), the giant green guy and the flying blond. You're everywhere. Splendid job, stealth ninja!" Barney said sarcastically. He was obviously still spitting mad, even after hearing that Clint hadn't been badly injured. Steve simply continued to adjust his sketch according to Clint's pointed directions.

"What was I supposed to do, let the alien space whale guys take over the planet? They were shooting civilians!" Clint said, exasperated. "That's not why I called, anyway."

"We're still going to talk about your stupid stunts later," Barney warned. "What else is going on?"

"I know what's making Mathew sick," Clint said simply.

"What?" Barney asked, shocked.

'Well that got his attention diverted from Clint's stunts,' Steve thought.

"I said, I know what's making Mathew sick. Look, this is something that you're going to have to see to believe, and there's no way you're gonna follow the guy lines to the wire if you don't see this for yourself. Plus there's the fact that I have no clue how much of this is going to be classified and buried. I need you and Miranda to come out to New York and bring Mathew. Put the tickets on the card I gave you and call me when you've got your flight information. I'll have someone meet you at the airport if I can't get there myself. I'm on guard duty at the moment."

"Alright, we'll take some emergency leave and come out as soon as we can," Barney said.

"Oh, and bring your bow. We'll see how much you've gotten rusty since I saw you last," Clint teased.

"Oh please, I may not be shooting at aliens, but it's the only way to keep Mathew entertained and quiet. I'll bet I'm shooting just as often as you are," Barney retorted. "Is it something we can fix?" he asked quietly.

"If I'm right, you're going to have to move, but it'll be easy to make him better," Clint promised.

"I'll call when I've got the tickets," Barney said, and they both hung up.

"Mathew?" Steve asked.

"He's my nephew. He's three years old, and constantly lethargic. He has no energy to do much of anything no matter what we do, and the doctors blow Barney and his wife off because they think that Mathew is a mutant. He's big and blue," Clint said pointedly.

"And Arizona is a desert state," Steve said, connecting the same dots that Clint just had. "If he's more Frost Giant than human physically, he's probably got heat exhaustion."

"Or whatever their version of it is," Clint agreed. "I figure Stark has to have a giant, walk in freezer around here somewhere, probably down in one of the labs."

"We'll be able to get him cooled down quickly in one of those," Steve agreed, pleased that it looked like the child would be able to recover quickly. He turned the sketch around and this time Clint was the one to nod. "Ok, let's see if Loki wants us to kick over that anthill."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Moscow

Sergeant James 'Bucky' Barnes came fully aware just as he slit the throat of the last man alive in the room with him. He dropped the body quickly and checked the room. It was a long, narrow room, and looked to be underground. The far end looked like something that would be found in a Hydra base. The metal coffin in the center of the mess of scientific equipment triggered a memory of being placed inside and being frozen, and then thawed and removed. He wasn't sure, but he thought it had happened many times.

The part of the room he was standing in looked more like a slaughter house. Seven large, male bodies lay at his feet, in various positions that suggested they'd been surprised and shocked that he was killing them. A fierce burst of hatred over took him and he kicked the body that lay closest to him. They'd done something, something horrible enough to wake him up fully so that he could stop it. He just needed to remember what that was… Were they Hydra? He didn't think so, there wasn't any of that damned Hydra symbol anywhere, and they put that on everything. No, they were Russian. They couldn't have been with the Allies though, or they wouldn't have told him to do what they did. What was it? They had shown him something…..

Bucky held onto that thought and began searching the room. He found a file on a table not far from the frozen coffin thing. Inside were pictures of Steve. _That _was what they'd told him to do. They had wanted him to kill Steve. Steve Rogers, his best friend from the cradle, when their mothers had traded babysitting so that they could both work, his brother in all but blood, and these bastards had wanted him to kill Stevie. Who else wanted Steve dead? Well, it really was a long list, especially since Steve had started wearing that stupid Captain America uniform, but really, it was Steve's stupid stubbornness that usually got him into these messes. The Captain America gig just made things worse. Bucky snickered as he looked over the pictures of Steve's new uniform. He had no idea who the guy in the metal armor was, but Steve's new uniform was almost as bad as his one with the USO. Bucky had laughed himself sick when he'd seen a picture of that one.

The armor guy was on Steve's side; that much was obvious from the picture. They were fighting together, blasting some _thing_. Bucky froze when the next picture he saw was of an archer and a red headed woman. "Natalia!" He dropped the rest of the file. It wasn't important. Natalia, his student, was going to kill Steve. He couldn't let that happen. He turned back to the bodies and rifled through their pockets. He had to get to New York. Steve was in New York. Bucky could recognize that store front in his sleep. He had to protect Steve. He had to get to Steve. He had to go home.

New York

"I do not understand," Thor said, as Steve and Clint came out of the bathroom. "Is not the fact that the son of Coul lives a thing to celebrate?"

"Yes it is, but we should have heard about it before now," Tony growled.

"Not my fault he doesn't read my reports!" Caruthers insisted yet again.

"Who stays with Loki, and who goes to check this out?" Natasha asked.

"I'm going!" Tony insisted. "I want to make sure we're being told the truth this time."

"I can only give you the information that I'm given. As soon as I found out that Coulson is alive, I came straight here with the doctor who told me," Fury snapped.

Natasha was the only one who noticed that the bathroom door was opening. "Coulson's still alive. The doctors at SHIELD have him hooked up to a bypass machine. His lung will heal, but his heart has been destroyed. We're trying to figure out who is going to confirm it for ourselves," she said, as Steve and Clint came into the room.

"How?" Clint demanded. Steve just looked bewildered, not understanding more than Coulson was still alive somehow.

"The medics got there just as he stopped breathing. They called it in, had him transported and hooked up within three minutes. So there's a good chance of no brain damage. On the other hand, there's almost no chance of finding a match for him and if we did, could we sentence him to life behind a desk? He made us his medical proxies. It's our call," Natasha informed him.

"Son of a, he actually went and did it," Clint cursed. "Who is staying here with Loki?"

"Actually, I would prefer to go with you to see the son of Coul, as I believe he is the agent that I stabbed with the tesseract spear?" came a shaky voice from the hospital bed. Everyone turned to stare at Loki, who was attempting to sit up. "I may be able to heal him."

"Why would you do that?" Fury wanted to know.

"There are many reasons, do you want them in order of importance or just as they come to mind?" Loki asked, before throwing a scowl at Thor. Thor, for his part, merely grinned as Loki rattled his restraints.

"What is the most important to you?" Fury asked. He'd caught on that there was something about those chains, something that Loki did not like. He just wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was restrained at all or not.

Loki sighed. "Agent Barton wishes this agent healed." He then clamped his mouth shut and glared at Fury.

"Thanks…. Mom," Clint said. Then he scratched the back of his neck and muttered to himself, "That is still so freaky weird." At that point, Steve handed his sketch pad to Natasha and pulled Stark out of the room before the man could say anything. Bruce got the hint and pulled a stunned Fury and Doctor Caruthers out of the room as well. Pepper followed, leaving Clint, Thor and Loki alone with only Natasha as a guard. It was the best they could do to leave the family alone together.

"I wasn't sure I'd really heard you, Hawkling," Loki said, once they had left the room.

"And one more checked off on the, 'you really are my mom' list. Barney is supposed to be the only person still alive that knows that nickname, and he shortened it to Hawk. I never did figure out why you called me that," Clint told him.

Loki shrugged, and winced as his injury was pulled by the motion. "That's simple enough. All of my children have the ability to shape shift, just as I do. I had to lock yours and Barney's abilities away from you for your own protection. Before I did so, your favorite form was a hawk eyas. It showed in other ways though, such as your laugh. Thor, how long have I been in these damned chains?"

"Nearly four days," Thor told him. "I regret the necessity of using them, but I had nothing else strong enough to hold you in your delirium, brother."

"Almost anything else would have been preferable," Loki muttered. He shoved his bound wrists at Thor, who calmly unlocked them.

"Loki, if you do this," Thor began.

"You know very well that I will do it, and I know the consequences, brother," Loki interrupted.

"You've always been a more indulgent parent than most would deem wise," Thor said, shaking his head, but not condemning his brother's actions. It was enough that Loki was once more willing to call him brother.

"They have enough burdens, Thor. I would not be another for them to face," Loki said. He silently cursed Thanos and the situation the Titan had forced him into. This was one subject he had never wanted to involve Thor in. The man's temper was short enough, and Loki knew that he doted on the one nephew he had that still lived in Asgard. He would do something terribly rash that would harm their people if he ever found out the truth. "Besides, you are the one who brings Sleipnir apples and carrots, reads him bedtime stories, and if you are away, you ordered your personal servant to do so in your stead. I may be indulgent, but you spoil him shamelessly."

"You know why I do so. I will not have my nephew ill-treated," Thor said firmly. "That reminds me. Clint, why did you tell Loki that I would not touch you? Do you think so little of my past that you thought you must reassure him of my good intentions towards you?"

Clint was already shaking his head before Thor finished. "No, I was trying to tell him that you would protect me from _him_." Clint pointed at the sketch book that Natasha was studying. "I'm not sure who he is, other than an Asgardian, although I could make a guess. I figured that I would ask Loki and see if he would tell me who that is, and see what he wants to do about it. I don't know enough about the situation to make the call."

Thor turned to Natasha and missed Loki's aborted attempt to stop him. Clint and Natasha did not. That made sense to them, considering Thor's personality and their assumption about the man's identity. "Clint had the Captain draw his nightmare. He's had it at least once a week since we've been partners, and more often if we've had a bad mission. The sketch fits the description Clint gave me the first time he had one in front of me perfectly." She handed the sketch book to Thor.

"It is not possible," Thor said, but Clint could see that, as much as Thor did not want to believe, he could not deny that there was no other way for Clint and Steve to come up with that picture – not with Natasha telling him that the picture matched nightmares that Clint had, had for years.

"Thor," Clint said. As soon as the Asgardian looked up, Clint turned around, and pulled his t-shirt up over his head, leaving it wrapped around his upper arms and leaving his back bare for Thor, and Loki, to see. Clint had more than his fair share of scars from his work, both with the Army and with SHIELD, but the burn scar that ran across his shoulder to his lower back, and the smaller burn scars that appeared in various patches, were still very vivid.

"Loki, why did you not tell me?" Thor asked, as he sat down heavily on the hospital bed, more distressed than ever.

"Because you're a moron with a short temper, who thinks that every problem is best solved by bashing it with your hammer!" Loki snapped. Clint turned around, slipping his shirt back on, in time to see Loki doing some bashing of his own, with a pillow aimed at Thor's head, in time to his exasperated answer.

That was the moment that Clint really realized that Loki was also Laura Barton, his mother. He'd been trying to accept what he knew intellectually, but this was what convinced his heart. Laughing, he rescued Thor from the pillow and hugged Loki. "Welcome back from the dead, Mom," he whispered.

Tower Common Room

"What the hell was that all about?! Barton's mother died when he was eight years old in a car crash along with his father," Fury demanded to know, the moment the group arrived in what most people would call a living room, but in Stark's case was far too large and took up most of the floor of the tower that it was on.

"Well, as he put it a few days ago, Loki likes to shape shift into a girl and have kids. What the guy does on his own time, when he's not being someone's lackey in world conquering, is his own business, not ours," Tony said, as he waved his hands around.

"Stark," Fury growled.

"Loki is a Frost Giant by birth, but he was adopted by the Odin and his wife after there was a war between the two planets. According to Thor, Frost Giants are hermaphrodites and have to choose between being male or female when having their kids. Loki prefers to be a girl when it comes to having kids, and being male the rest of the time. From the stories that I've read, Odin really doesn't like that and I think that there's something of a family feud going on there about it because Odin was the only one who knew that Loki was a Frost Giant. My guess is that Loki was here on Earth so that he could hide the fact that he was having kids again, and he got caught," Tony informed him.

"And he just so happened to pick Barton, his long lost son, to be his flying monkey the next time he shows up here?" Fury asked sarcastically.

"Careful, Fury, your paranoia is showing," Tony told him.

"You know perfectly well that neither of them knew that the other was alive," Steve said.

"Well, being related to the God of Mischief would explain how Barton managed to drive that arms dealer to confess to the local authorities," Fury admitted.

A chirping chuckle came from the direction of the elevator. "Hey, it's not my fault the guy couldn't handle a few harmless pranks," Clint said, leading Thor, who was helping Loki, and Natasha into the room.

"Harmless pranks, Barton? You made the man think he was going insane," Fury said, rolling his eye.

"I was bored," Clint said with a shrug. "Besides, he was so annoying he was even driving Natasha up the wall. He deserved what he got."

"I fear to ask, but what did you do?" Thor asked, his normally sunny nature returning. Both Asgardians were dressed in t-shirts and jeans, courtesy of Pepper.

Fury snorted. "Barton's mark left his office for 15 minutes, only to come back and find all of his office furniture fastened upside down to the ceiling. He left the office a second time and came back with his bodyguard 20 minutes later to find the office furniture back on the floor where it showed no sign of having ever been moved. Barton then somehow managed to convince the man that he was hearing voices lecturing him on honesty, honor, and the evils of criminal behavior, while continuing variations of the office prank."

"By the time Barton was done having his fun, his mark was practically throwing himself into police custody," Natasha said.

"You both said 'his mark'," Bruce observed.

Natasha smiled. "SHIELD's target was a little further up the food chain, Doctor Banner. Barton was just having fun with one of the bad guys he found annoying. We didn't even try to arrest him."

"You are on my team in any prank war, Barton. I'm calling dibs," Tony declared.


	6. Chapter 6

Arizona

FBI Special Agent Charles Bernard 'Trickshot' Barton gently set the phone down on the rookie's desk, smacked the back of the rookie's head, and then scrubbed his face with both hands. "Hawkeye alright?" his boss, Special Agent Daryl Walker, asked.

Barton nodded. "Stupid little twit walked away without any major damage," he said.

"What do you need the emergency leave for then?" Angela Kent asked. Kent was the team's profiler and resident mother hen.

"Hawkeye thinks he knows what's making Mathew sick. He says we need to go to New York, but if he's right, it should be really easy to fix," Barton told them all.

"Mathew's your son, right?" Davis, the rookie, asked, still looking lost. In his defense, he'd only met Mathew once, and neither of the two men on the phone had mentioned their relationship, although he had quickly realized that the rest of the team must have known who this 'Hawkeye' was from the intense way they were listening.

"Yes, and he's been sick ever since he was born. In case you haven't figured it out, Hawkeye is my little brother, SHIELD Agent Clint Barton. We still use the codenames we used as Army snipers so that no one gets confused about which Agent Barton is being talked about when we're both involved in a conversation or situation," Barton explained slowly, as though to a particularly thick student. He sat down at his desk and pulled up another search engine to look for a flight to New York. The one that was already running was still pulling up footage from the battle with the 'alien space whale guys' as Clint had called them.

"And one more thing for you to remember," Paul West, Davis' training partner told him. "Special Agent 'Trickshot' Barton is not to be confused with suspect Buck 'Trick Shot' Chisholm. Chisholm is our team's personal case. I know that they told you at Quantico, that all cases should be treated the same, but the truth is that everyone gets a case sooner or later that gets personal."

"Chisholm belonged to one of the smaller circuses that operate in the US, Mexico, and Canada," Kent said, taking over the explanation. "He had a sharpshooter act, and he trained both Hawkeye and our Trickshot how to shoot."

"Bastard wanted to spend less time doing the grunt work any circus act requires, so he got Momma Carson to let us boys do the work in return for the training. We took to target shooting like ducks to water," Barton chimed in.

"They both look like they have no idea what to do with a weapon when they hold one, but remember, they were trained from the time they were kids to perform in the circus and that was part of the act. No matter how awkward they look, they are both world class expert marksmen," Angela warned. "One of the things that Chisholm did with his free time was to increase his criminal connections, drugs and weapons mostly. When Hawkeye was fifteen and Trickshot was seventeen, Chisholm decided that it was time to leave the circus, and he wasn't about to leave without a hefty amount of cash to jumpstart his new criminal career."

"Chisholm robbed the circus of its cashbox, taking the payroll, expense money, everything, and killing the accountant in the process," West said, taking over the more disturbing details. "She was also one of the performers, the mother of three teenaged girls, and was in training to take over the circus for when Momma Carson retired. She was well liked, and if it wasn't for what happened to Hawkeye, it's very doubtful that Chisholm would have left the circus grounds alive. Instead, young Hawkeye caught him in the act and Chisholm chased him through the grounds and into the big top tent. At that point Hawkeye fled into the support ropes for the high wire and trapeze acts."

"That's when Chisholm made his second big mistake," Walker took up the story. "He shot Hawkeye, causing the teen to fall. The gunshot brought everyone running, and Chisholm fled, leaving Hawkeye to die, either from the gunshot wound or the injuries he sustained in the fall. Now, the locals did good work documenting the case, mostly because Hawkeye was able to give a clear and detailed statement, but they really didn't do much more than that. There is nothing in the case file that would allow a case for prejudicial neglect, but reading between the lines, the locals didn't care if…"

Barton interrupted. "The sheriff didn't care if some side show freak was killed, a trouble making, bad boy, circus kid was hurt, or that the same fifteen year old boy was still in danger of dying or being paralyzed for the rest of his life," he said flatly. "He didn't care that a man was left with three teenaged daughters to raise or that those girls had lost their mother. As soon as Hawkeye was well enough to travel, and I'm sure that he pushed the doctor into letting Hawkeye go, he kicked us out of his town, and promptly forgot that we even existed.

"Our shows are arranged as much as nine months in advance, so Momma Carson had more than a few problems. I took over as Trickshot, doing his act, and filling in for Hawkeye until he could pull his bow and get back into the ring. Tracy's youngest daughter, Kelly, stepped up to take over her mother's training, and Momma Carson was able to hire an accountant right out of school to take over the books. We got lucky there. Tracy had left everything so well documented that Kevin Glass had no problems keeping things going. He ended up marrying Kelly, and I married her oldest sister Miranda. Once we were done with that tour, I enlisted in the Army. After serving four years, I joined the FBI. Once I'd graduated from Quantico, I went back to that town, got the file on Tracy's murder, and I've been tracking the son of a bitch down ever since," Barton said, summing up the rest of the story.

"And we've been helping him. Tracy Beasing may have been a side show entertainer, and married to a trapeze artist, but she's just as deserving of justice as any other working mother." Walker was firm on that point. He wasn't about to tolerate any sort of bigotry in his unit. "Now, since you've been introduced to the concept, West is going to pull up _all_ of the past cases where having more than one person involved with the same name has sent the entire case on a hand basket ride. I want you to review those cases, and write a complete report on how and why those cases were damaged, how they were salvaged – if they were, what the worst case scenario would have been, and how the entire thing could have been avoided," he ordered.

Walker turned to where Barton was writing down flight information, in the process of purchasing tickets. "Barton, take Kent with you. New York is going to be unsettled to say the least, and I'll see what I can do to get the rest of us sent out to help. We don't have any active cases at the moment," he said. "Good luck with Mathew."

"Good going, rookie," West said, giving Davis another smack to the back of his head.

Last minute flights were always expensive, but the emergency credit card that Clint had given him withstood the hit of four tickets without any problems. Trickshot was also able to get them a straight flight, which only marginally improved the situation. A nearly five hour flight, even with a toddler as well behaved as Mathew, was going to be horrendous. "We need to be at the airport in an hour," he said over his shoulder to Angela, who was busy cleaning off her desk. He joined her in preparing for an extended leave away from the office.

"No problem, I've got my bag in my car," Angela said. "Charles, are you going to be alright if Hawkeye is wrong?"

"It won't be the first time we've had someone refuse to treat Mathew because he's a mutant, Angela. I've learned to deal with that sort years ago." Trickshot shrugged into his jacket and grabbed the briefcase that he'd shoved his personal copy of Chisholm's file in. "Miranda's going to meet us at the airport with Mathew."

"Is she bringing your bow too?" Angela teased. She knew that all three Bartons kept emergency bags on hand at all times, in case someone found a doctor willing to treat Mathew, or took violent exception to the toddler's appearance. The poor child was tall for his age, and had blue skin with red eyes, none of which explained just why Mathew was listless and cold all of the time. She prayed that Hawkeye knew what he was talking about.

"Nah, it's in my trunk in case we get a case where I need it, or I get some time on the range. Besides, it wouldn't be a Barton family reunion if there wasn't a shooting competition," Trickshot laughed.

The airport was crowded this time of day, but the two FBI agents managed to find Miranda and Mathew without any problems at the security gate. For once, the hostile or shocked curiosity of strangers reacting to an obvious mutant worked in their favor, leading them straight to mother and child. Flashing their badges at the security guards got them past the gate, but Trickshot was told in no uncertain terms that he would have to check the case containing his crossbow and bolts. It would not be allowed as a carryon bag, even with his badge. "Like I haven't done this before," he grumbled to his wife as he checked his case and she checked Mathew's stroller.

Miranda merely smiled. Her husband could no more be parted from his preferred weapon than she could stay on the ground. In a gesture that showed more than any 'proper' gift how much he loved her, Barney had set up a miniature trapeze in their backyard, not far from his own shooting range. "Let's just get Mathew to New York. Maybe we can scout out that school while we're there."

'That school' as they always called it, had been recommended to them more than once by sympathetic outsiders. As it was a boarding school, both Trickshot and Miranda balked at the idea of sending Mathew there, even if all of the students and most of the staff were mutants. They'd always thought that they'd go back to the circus once Chisholm was caught. Mathew would have no problems growing up among the other oddities in the circus, if he lived long enough to attend school. That, of course, had always been their biggest fear. Mathew had already had several instances this summer alone where his mysterious illness had caused him to have severe breathing problems, but if Clint was right, and a cure had not only been found, but would prove easy to give to Mathew, then they were going to need to make a decision about Mathew's education soon. "Maybe," was all that Trickshot would say. It all depended on what Clint had to tell them.

New York

All of the Avengers, plus Pepper Potts, and Darcy Lewis, assistant to Thor's Doctor Jane Foster, stood outside the isolation room and watched as Loki used his magic to heal the wound that he had created while under some madman's control. For Clint, it was very reassuring that Loki's magic was a deep, vibrant, _green_ color. If he never saw the same shade of blue as the tesseract again, it would still be too soon. "Ok, so you work for Doctor Foster, but you're Thor's shieldmaiden, and you're here to check on the agent that you call the I-pod thief. Explain to me how this is supposed to add up because it doesn't for me, although I do have to agree with you that Cupid does have some great muscle definition going for him," Tony smirked a bit in Darcy's direction. Her nickname for the archer – Agent Muscles – had amused the billionaire. "I'm pretty sure that he belongs to the most lethal woman I've ever met though." He had never actually taken his eyes off of Coulson. Pepper was too busy watching Loki work to worry about trying to keep Tony in line.

Darcy shrugged, her gaze not leaving the unconscious agent either. "I was Jane's intern when Thor came to New Mexico last year. We get along great, and while I don't understand the whole SCIENCE! thing, I'm great at making sure that Jane always has good coffee, pop tarts, real food at least once every twenty four hours, and that all of her experiments, notes, data, and other such science-y stuff can be found at a moment's notice. Thor made me his shieldmaiden so that I could have authority with any Asgardians when it came to keeping Jane safe, even from herself. You see, because Thor's not just a prince, he's also Odin's heir, when he gets involved with someone, they automatically are granted some official status in Asgard. So, while Jane's not exactly the reigning princess yet, although if you ask me, it's not that far off with the way those two act around each other, she does rank above most of the ladies of Odin's court. With that rank comes certain other privileges, and a mere mortal nagging at her to eat once a day is beyond not allowed because one – there's the mortals have no rank issue, and two – it majorly goes against court protocol. When Thor made me his shieldmaiden, which is a similar position to Odin's Valkyries, he gave me a little of his own authority so that I can still wrangle Jane when needed." Darcy looked over at Tony and slid her glasses down so that she could look over them. "It's also appropriate because I wield a mean Taser."

"That she does," Thor said with a grin, while simultaneously rubbing his chest.

Tony looked over at her warily. "You're a political scientist, aren't you?" Darcy managed a lopsided smirk.

Clint snickered. "I was backing Coulson up in New Mexico. I remember reading his report on your first night on Earth, Thor. How many times did Doctor Foster hit you with her van?"

"She hit him twice, and distracting me by teasing Thor won't work, Agent Muscles," Darcy scolded, her smirk growing slightly. She turned back to the window and placed her hand on the glass. "Phil brought a bunch of other agents, including Muscles over there, to where Jane and I were set up, and took everything that might have had even a single word of Jane's research on it – including my I-pod," she told Tony. "It's become a running joke between us, that he was holding it hostage to ensure my best behavior, no killing important SCIENCE! brain cells with what's left of my wild college days." Darcy started crying silently, although she did nothing to hide her tears.

"All will be well, Darcy," Thor told her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Loki is one of the strongest sorcerers in all the realms, and these are the spells that he saves to use upon his own family." Thor did **not** want to remember the last time that he had seen Loki use the healing spells. He hoped that Sleipnir was still enjoying the toys that he had bought his nephew with the gold that he'd received from selling that groom to the dwarves as slave labor for their mines. His nephew might not be a prince, as he was born out of wedlock, but he was still a member of the royal family. Thor had made certain that no groom ever forgot that again; which reminded him. "Clint, were your parents wedded?"

"Yeah, why?" Clint asked warily. Tony smirked openly at Thor asking politely if Barton was a bastard, while the rest tried to hide theirs.

"You are a prince of Asgard then, and your brother is Loki's heir, as your other brothers were sent to live with their fathers as the heirs to their father's lands."

Loki had finished working his magic on Coulson and left the isolation room, (leaving Doctor Caruthers and Fury to inspect Coulson's brand new heart that he had re-grown from the slight remains of the old), in time to hear Thor's last remark. "That's not what Odin did to them." He clamped his mouth shut, as though to hold back the words that would be forced out of his mouth without his permission otherwise.

"Loki, what do you mean?" Thor asked confused.

"Odin banished Jormungandr to Midgard and imprisoned Fenris somewhere in Asgard. I cannot find them. Odin has hidden them from my magic. I only know that they still live because their father was a Frost Giant," Loki bit out.

"How did you come to be with him?" Thor asked gently, distracted once more from the fact that it was his father who had done these terrible things to his brother's children.

"He was another sorcerer traveling the realms in disguise. You know that no one trusts the Frost Giants. His magic slipped a little, and when the boys were born, I knew," Loki said shortly.

"It would have been helpful if we'd known we were half Frost Giant a few years ago," Clint said, trying to distract both Loki and Thor. "I don't think Mathew would have gotten so sick if we'd known."

"Who is Mathew?" Loki asked.

"Barney's son," Clint said with a grin. He was glad to be able to give his mom some good news. "He's three and blue, very blue."

"I only found out myself last year. Why would having Frost Giant physiology make him ill?" Loki asked, concerned.

Clint shook his head at their own ignorance. "We kept trying to warm him up. Poor kid's so over heated he can't do anything."

"We need to tell Barney right away," Loki insisted, his joy at finding another of his children alive and well over shadowed by his first grandchild's illness.

"Already done, sort of," Clint said. He checked his watch. "The three of them and one of the FBI agents from Barney's unit are already on their way from Arizona. The plane is landing in just under five hours from now. We need to explain about you being Laura Barton before we can explain about Mathew being a Frost Giant toddler. I told Barney that I knew what was making Mathew sick and that it would be easy to fix."

"Far easier than Agent Coulson," Loki agreed. "He is fully healed and only needs to sleep off the medications he's been given." The last part Loki directed at the rest of the group, who all looked like they were ready to have Banner unleash his beast upon Loki again unless he gave them an update in their eagerness to learn about Coulson's condition.

Tony, who had been closely watching Loki ever since the godling had woken up, clapped his hands together. "Well then, let's get Coulson out of here before he wakes up. The last place he needs to be is in SHIELD medical now that he's healed up."

"Have Happy meet us at the side entrance with the limo," directed Natasha. "It'll be more discrete than to try and carry Coulson out through the front entrance." Unspoken between the two was the fact that it would be less traumatizing for Coulson if he didn't wake up here. He would believe that he was healed far sooner if he wasn't still under observation.

"You will not!" Doctor Caruthers said, coming out of the isolation room. "The man nearly died! He needs to stay for observation, and while it looks like his heart regrew itself, we still need to run tests to make sure that it will work correctly."

Loki drew himself up to his full height and put on his most haughty, princely demeanor. "Agent Barton wanted Agent Coulson healed well enough to return to the field. If Agent Coulson were not in perfect health, I would not consider my work complete, and Agent Barton's request fulfilled." His voice dropped dangerously low. "I do not leave a task half-finished and call it complete, Doctor," he sneered. He gestured abruptly, and transported the Avengers, Pepper, Darcy, Agent Coulson, and himself back to Stark Tower.

"I don't think he likes you very much, Doctor," Fury said from behind the gapping physician.


	7. Chapter 7

Asgard

Queen Frigga approached the end of the Bi-Frost Bridge, and the guard station of Heimdall, the Watcher. She was accompanied by Lady Sif, whom she had left where the Bi-Frost began in Asgard. Sif was guard and companion in one person, a welcome ability as Frigga needed the utmost discretion about her visit. "Heimdall, have you word of my sons?" she asked as their mother, not their queen.

"My Queen, your sons live, although the younger was wounded when the elder freed him from his bondage," Heimdall answered, facing the universe spread out before him and not the woman at his side.

"WHAT BONDAGE?!" Frigga demanded to know. No one had said anything to her of this! "Who dares bind my son?" she asked, her voice just short of a growl. She was a queen, and a sorceress, which meant that she knew her words and actions could have serious consequences, but in her heart she was as much of a warrior as Sif was, and nothing in the universe was more dangerous than a mother whose child was threatened.

"He speaks not of his enthrallment, only of his sons," Heimdall said. He was very practiced at winding his way through the oaths he had taken, often letting silence speak for him. Frigga knew this, and also knew that the more precisely he spoke, the more likely it was that there was something he had been commanded not to speak of directly.

"He misses them, as any mother misses her child. I had hoped that Sleipnir's presence here at the palace would ease his mourning of the loss of his other children to their duties." Frigga watched the Watcher out of the corner of her eye. There it was, the slightest twitch that she was not sure Heimdall knew about. There was more going on than Loki merely missing his children. She moved in front of him. "What exactly does my son Loki say of his children, Heimdall? Tell me his exact words concerning my grandchildren," the Queen of Asgard commanded.

Heimdall recited Loki's words to his queen, and in her anger, she questioned him more and more directly. Thor had been well known for his hot headed ways, although he had been observed frequently trying to control that temper over the last year, but what few knew was that he hadn't inherited that temper from Odin. By the time she had finished her interrogation of Heimdall and marched back to where she had left Sif, Frigga was in a towering rage. Her dearest husband had a great deal to answer for.

At the royal stables the queen ordered Sven, the head groom, to bring a pillion saddle to Sleipnir's stall, sweeping past the man before he could begin to protest the queen and her companion/guard entering the stall of the king's warhorse. Even knowing that the horse was special to the royal family, (there were rumors that Prince Thor had meant it literally when he'd told them that Sleipnir was a member of the royal family no matter how hard he tried to stifle them), Sleipnir was still a warhorse and trained for battle. His stall was no place for a woman, especially since no one had been allowed to neuter the beast after the first groom had tried. He passed the order on and ran after the women, hoping that they came to no damage and that his majesty wouldn't kill him for allowing the women into the stall in the first place.

Frigga and Sif knew what was going through Sven's mind. This was no great feat as it was painfully obvious in his expression. Frigga would not let that, or anything else stop her. Her grandchildren were suffering, and she would destroy this realm before she allowed that to continue. "Kill him if he tries to stop me," she ordered Sif.

"My queen," Sif said, bowing her head in acceptance of the order. She drew her sword in anticipation of the attempt she knew Sven would make. The man was good with horses, but he was practically useless when it came to competent women. None of the Valkyries ever wanted to have anything to do with him. Fortunately their warhorses were kept in a separate stable and Sven rarely did more than a cursory inspection there every few years. She spotted a boy cleaning a piece of tack and sent him off to her personal servant with a message to return with traveling gear for both of them. Whatever journey her majesty was planning on taking, they'd need more than the clothes they were wearing.

Frigga opened Sleipnir's stall door just as Sven caught up with them. She had a glimpse of Sif's sword at the man's throat before Sleipnir neighed a greeting and came to cuddle his often absent grandmother. Frigga hugged her grandson. She normally hated the fact that her duties as the queen kept her away from the stables and her grandson as much as they did, but now she was downright furious. She had trusted her husband to care for the boy as she did and had comforted herself with the idea that Sleipnir had at least one grandparent spending time with him. "I missed you too, my darling. Now, stand still because I need to take a look at your halter," she instructed.

Sleipnir nodded and stood so that Frigga had easy access to his halter. "Good boy, Sleipnir," she praised and then began to examine the halter he wore. She had never examined it in any depth. Odin had designed the halter and she had trusted that he knew what he was doing with the magic involved. The magic was a harmless and practical necessity considering Sleipnir's limited mental abilities. It simply kept him out of the sort of trouble that an ignorant child in a stallion's body could get into, and prevented the halter from being removed – on the surface.

Frigga held the halter and dived into the magics that were woven into the leather. Underneath the magics to protect her grandson was one of the sort that she had feared to find. The spell's only purpose was to silence any sort of voice that Sleipnir might have had. Her husband had deliberately silenced her grandson for his entire three hundred years. Frigga got a better hold of her temper, and began gently unraveling all of the spells on the halter. She would recraft them as necessary later.

Outside Sleipnir's stall Sif nodded in acceptance of the requested saddle one of the under grooms had brought and directed him to place it on the open half door to the stall. When her personal servant came into sight, Sif directed her to place the two packs she held next to the saddle. Then she sent the groom off to get travel supplies for Sleipnir and her servant back to her duties. Then she turned to face Sven. "Her majesty has ordered your death should you interfere in her work. I suggest that you leave now before I must carry out that order."

Sif smirked to herself as Sven left quickly and she sheathed her sword. She did not need his help to saddle a horse, even the one that Thor jokingly called nephew. Besides, her majesty was working on unraveling a spell. Sif's shoulders tried to twitch in a shudder at the memory of her teachers in spell work scrambling to undo a spell she had tried to cast. She had little talent for magecraft and it had shown in the way she could not manage to work even the simplest spells without unintended consequences. Sif had no idea what spell of the king's that her majesty needed to correct, but she did know that it wasn't a good idea for the servants to find out about it.

When Sif was certain the Sven was not returning she sheathed her sword and looked took a better look at Sleipnir's stall. It felt like the proverbial brick wall fell on her head she was so shocked at what she saw. She had only been inside Sleipnir's stall twice in the last three centuries, both times when the stallion was still a colt. Then it had been a plain stall, better than most, but still just a large stall. Now though, there were shelves along one wall that held children's storybooks, toys like balls made of sturdy materials and rope rings, as well as Sleipnir's grooming supplies. The light control had been changed to a large lever that, from the teeth marks in the handle, Sleipnir could, and had, operated himself. In the corner where his bed of straw lay piled up, was a soft and comfortable blanket, and nestled in the folds was a sot doll dressed in green. In short, the stall had been transformed into the room of a child.

Sif had always thought that Loki had used his magic to bring a mare into season to lure the stallion Svadilfari away, but now she recalled that Asgard's Army had left few horses at all behind when they'd left to fight the dark elves, and that Loki was a shapeshifter. Loki had sacrificed himself to protect their people from the foolish bargain the council had made, and then blamed him for. Thor had not been joking when he'd called Sleipnir his nephew. It was not the first time Loki had made such a sacrifice either. As she recalled he had given up his first born daughter to cement an alliance with Helheim.

Suddenly Sif was ashamed of the view she had held on to for so long about the younger prince. Memories, one after another, flashed across her mind of times when Loki had saved her, Thor and the warriors three when they were questing, of his attempts to soothe his elder brother's rages, of the times that he had fought at her side, of the times that he had left his precious books for his duties to their people, and most recently his attempt to save Thor from his own foolishness in attacking the Frost Giants. Was it any wonder his mind had gone questing without him? She and the warriors three, known to Loki from his earliest childhood, had even turned traitor when Loki had sat on Odin's throne. It had been the right thing to do as Loki's mind had already gone questing, but it was still a betrayal.

There was naught that Sif could do to pay wergild to Loki now for her actions, but this she could do. She would watch over Loki's child and provide him with a parent figure now that Loki was dead. The sound of running feet caught Sif's attention, and she had half drawn her sword before she recognized Thor's personal servant. "Lady Sif," he said with a bow, as she returned her sword to its resting place. The man was similar to Thor in build and his preference in weapons, but had close cropped red hair and beard, a far more even temper, and paid far more attention than many to the details of the workings of the palace. He would make Thor a great source of information when Thor finally ascended to the throne.

"Olaf, her majesty should not be disturbed. She is modifying some spell work," Sif informed him. "Have you been looking after Sleipnir while Thor and Loki…were away from Asgard?" she asked, changing the subject and attempting to be delicate about Loki's death.

"That I have, Lady Sif," Olaf said. He shook his head. "Those blasted stable boys are getting too full of themselves. I was told that two women had taken it into their heads to go into Sleipnir's stall. If the fool had told me that her majesty was visiting, I wouldn't have had to leave my meal."

Sif smiled. "I thank you for attempting to save Sleipnir from gawkers. I admit I have not spent as much time as I should have helping, but I did not wish to intrude. Is there anything that I should know about him or his care? Her majesty is planning a journey for the three of us, I believe and I have no wish to treat him ill."

Olaf's face grew fond. "He's a good boy, with a strong heart, but I fear that the battles he had been in have given him nightmares. He's still young for all that he wears a stallion's shape. I've found that giving him his blanket and reading to him before he sleeps staves them off. He enjoys the long stories the most, especially if they involve their highnesses."

Sif grinned. "Well, I know more stories than most about Thor and Loki. Has anyone told him about the time Loki talked Thor into dressing as a woman to get one of the vault weapons back from the giants?" It was one of her favorite stories, especially since she and Loki had been Thor's 'lady's maids'.

Olaf grinned as well. "No, I don't think that anyone has, Lady Sif."

Frigga chose that moment to lead Sleipnir out of his stall. "Olaf, good, you can take my husband a message." The queen's very tone was cold enough to raise frost on the armor of those who could hear her. Sif went into Sleipnir's stall while the queen's attention was occupied by Olaf. It only took her a moment to grab Sleipnir's things. "I am going to take Sleipnir to see his sister. He had better be here when I return."

Sif winced as she bundled the grooming gear and doll into Sleipnir's blanket. 'By the Norns, her majesty is angry,' she thought.

"Sleipnir, would you prefer for us to walk alongside you, or ride you for the journey to see Hela?" Frigga asked kindly. No matter how angry she was at her husband, she could never turn that anger on her grandchildren.

_Ride please, Grandmother_, Sleipnir thought, and presented himself to Sif so that she could dress him for the journey. In moments both ladies were sitting in the saddle. Sif had only been momentarily startled when she'd heard Sleipnir's thoughts, but realized that it wasn't like he could talk with the mouth of a horse.

"Remember my message, Olaf," the queen warned, as Sleipnir began to head out of the stables.

"Yes, your majesty," Olaf said, bowing low. Norns, he did not want to get involved in a fight between Odin and Frigga. As disloyal as it felt to his king, Olaf was betting on Frigga winning.


End file.
